Splinter Mass
by RikaHara
Summary: A trip through Russia's atmosphere lands two battle brothers-of agents in a strange and bizarre new world... and no, its not Canada.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hallo, rikahara here. WARNING: under NO circumstances is this to be taken with even a hint of seriousness. Just my submission for a "stupid and unlikely crossover" challenge I'm doing. So I took something I don't really like (cough splintercell) and threw it in with someone I love (coughmasseffectcough) lets see how crappy this gets! :D _**

Sunset over Moscow. The sky burned a deep crimson, coating the clouds in its bloody hue. The plane's engines roared with gusto as they fought to push the large craft through the air. It was soon lost to the famed Russian city, now nothing but a tiny black spec receding into the ever darkening sky.

Onboard, Archer forced himself to relax. It was easier said than done. For some reason he couldn't quite get his grip to unhinge from the back of Kobin's seat in the cockpit.

The greying haired man took immediate notice. " Clean getaway, plane's in flight, EMP is safely secured. There's no one left alive that can catch us right now." He stated, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Why don't you go back down to the hold and relax with your...rusky friend..." he scowled. "Speaking of which, don't mind it if there's a little turbulence. We're approaching the Russian Atmosphere."

The agent did a double take. 'Excuse me? I didn't know the Russians had their own atmosphere," he scoffed.

"Damn straight they do! Russian's need their own one, like the weird...vodkahol drinking freaks they are!" His face grew dark, "They say strange things can happen up here, especially at this time, where dark meets the light..."

By this time, Archer had quietly concluded that Kobin and his ramblings should be left well alone and made his way back down into the hold.

Once down there, he found Kestrel had already made himself comfortable amongst the cargo. Gear taken off, he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed contentedly. He peeked open an eye at the fellow agents approach.

Despite the somewhat weary feelings known to be held between America and Russia, the agent only looked at Archer with mild curiosity. Their partnership only spanned ten days, but there was something about sneaking around in the dark, breaking people's necks, and getting shot at constantly that really brought people together.

"Mission complete?' He asked in his thick accent.

'Mission complete." Archer ripped off his mask. Taking a deep breath his scratched at the stubble lining his square face. "Time to clean up this ugly mug of mine. "

Kestrel only blinked at him, eyebrow raised. Apparently the agent's slang did not compute.

Archer sighed. "I need a shave."

"Take your time, its going to be a long trip." With that he settled back down and began to nod off, prompting another sigh from the agent. He would never understand how his comrade could relax so easily.

He squeezed himself inside the plane's tiny excuse for a bathroom, and took out a razor. He observed his reflecting in the grimy mirror. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, and his wild black mess of hair, he was going to need more than just a shave when he got back to the states.

Suddenly his ear piece lit up. Someone was trying to contact him. "Kobin?' He answered.

"No, Archer, this is Reed. Where's Kestrel?"

"In the hold dozing. Why?"

"Kill him."

The razor stopped halfway to his face. "Repeat that.'

"I want you to kill him! Kill him till he dies from it! Then after that, I want you to murder him!" The line went dead.

All of a sudden his gun felt excruciatingly heavy in its holster. Any order but this, he would follow without hesitation. Any order but this.

_Orders are orders, Archer. Third Echelon doesn't give them without reason. _The razor dropped, he grabbed his pistol.

He stepped into the hold. A heavy tension hovered above the whirr of the engines. He looked to his left. Kestrel wasn't where he had left him. He drifted amongst the crates, the hunter looking for his prey.

He found it when he felt cold steel pressed against his head. He turned around slowly, coming face to face with the russian, desert-eagle firmly in hand. "Mission complete, eh?" He held up Archer's OPSAT device, which he had clearly snooped from his gear. The words "KILL KESTRAL DEAD" blazed around its screen.

"I have orders.' He solemnly replied, and punched the agent's arm, making him lose him gun. He threw his to the floor, and pressed his own pistol up against Kestral's forehead.

Kestral's hazel eyes grew big. "Orders are orders, eh, Chief?" He almost smiled.

"Don't look at me like that. Seriously, that's just wrong. No grown man should be able to do that look."

Kestral's eyes grew bigger. More imploring.

"Stop it, you're weirding me out!" He scowled. "Fine. I can't do this." He dropped his gun and helped his partner up.

" You're going against orders."

"Partners are partners, chief." He replied, feeling a little torn inside. And relieved. " Fight together. Stay together."

"Ah, well, isn't that sweet. I guess you can die together, too!' The two turned to confront Kobin, who stood holding Kestrel's gun. "Well, aren't you two going to kill each other, or am I going to have to finish the job myself!"

"No way." Archer stepped closer. "We stand by the bro-code!"

"Dah, I, too, support this...bro code!" Kestrel backed his friend up, still not quite sure what he was saying.

"Hm, I guess I can understand your commitment. Okay, then." He nodded. Then shot Kestrel.

The American agent caught his friend even before he hit the floor, and dragged him into cover, bullets whizzing by his head. He hunched into the shadows, wishing that he hadn't of dropped his pistol. He looked down at his partner.

"You okay, Chief?'

"Dah, I'm alright. Its not as if I have a gaping hole in my shoulder...oh wait." He stared pointedly back up at Archer, pale faced and grimacing.

"Point taken."

"Cheer up, Archer!' Kobin yelled as he unleashed bullets into random corners of the plane. "Come out right now. I promise I'll buy you a new russian once we get back to the states!"

Suddenly the plane shook violently, causing the power to flicker.

"Who's flying the plane?'

"The same guy who's shooting at us, Chief."

"Oh...crap."

"Damn rusky atmosphere!' Kobin yelled.

"You have to get out of here." Kestrel said grimly as the plane shook again.

"Not without you. Hold on."

He rolled out of cover, darting along the crates to the nearby wall. He quickly grabbed their two packs with all their gear and came scampering back. Kobin still hadn't found them. Maybe because he was too busy ranting about communists wanting to steal all his precious bodily fluids.

"We're not communist anymore!' Kestrel grumbled as Archer came back to him. "What do you have?' He winced, "Do you have a plan?"

He looked towards the ramp, then at Kobin. "Yeah. IMPROVISE!" Yelling, he ran back out of cover, straight into Kobin's path. Without hesitation he kicked him in the crotch.

"Sweet babies!' He wheezed, toppling over. Archer slammed his head into a crate, then quickly found his dropped pistol. Going back to Kestrel, he began dragging him towards the ramp.

"What are you doing?"

"I need your help. You know that EMP thing we secured. If its important enough for Kobin to want to kill us over it, then I think we should dispose of the thing. How about you?"

He got evil laughter for response.

Helping him up, he staggered over to second ramp release, Archer taking the first. At the count of three they released. A whirlwind of air was sucked out of the hold, causing the agents to hang on for dear life.

They stared into the swirling void that they supposed was the sky. "Strange, where are the stars...' Kestrel muttered. Too bad to one could hear him over the screaming of the wind that was conjured up by the dark maelstrom.

He turned around, eyes locking onto the EMP device that hung suspended a ways in front of them. "Shoot it, Archer!"

Archer raised his pistol and aimed at the suspension. Suddenly Kobin popped up, giggling evilly. He punched a random button, and the device lit up.

"Aw crap." Archer shot the suspension. It broke with a clang. Sending the device rolling across the floor.

"AW CRAP!" He yelled as the device rolled out of control and hit him, dragging him with it. "Improvising sucks!"

"Archer!" The strain on Kestrel's wounded shoulder was too much. His bloodied hands lost their grip, and he slipped out into the raging black that was the sky.

Kobin hit a button, and the ramp closed. He grinned. "Ha! They're Europe's problem now!

Somewhere, through time and space and a whole bunch of science crap, the galaxy was at peace. Saren had been destroyed, the geth defeated, and the citadel saved. Too bad Commander Shepard was now dead.

Anderson sat at his desk, Udina pacing frantically in front of him. "Do you know what his means? There goes the fighting face of humanity! Of course, we now lead the council. But the symbol of our newfound strength is gone! All we have left now are a bunch of Conrad Verners!"

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Shepard's death is tragic, but we must move on. You don't want another hemorrhoid now, do you?"

" I told you we'd never discuss that!' He snapped. "This is an important issue. Humanity needs a new symbol of strength, one that doesn't as easily get blown up by mysterious ships! We need more human spectres!"

"You work on that, I'm going to get a space guiness.' Anderson adjusted his uniform and got up, striding over to the fridge-of-the-future that he kept in his office.

"-but there are no potential candidates." He got down on his knees and shouted to the heavens. "HEAR ME, OH SPACE-FUTURE-GODLIKE-DEITIES! GIVE ME SOME CANDIDATES!"

As in if reply, Anderson's fridge shook and spazzed out.

"What the-" Anderson went to open it, and was blown back as two black clad figures rolled out onto the floor, the contents of his fridge splattered across them.

"Holy Saren's buttcheeks!" Udina squealed. "Who are you and what are you doing in chairman Anderson's office?"

Kestrel raised his head and weakly tried to rolled away from the unconscious Archer. "Vodka...blegh.' He passed out.


	2. Chapter 2: ARGH

"It doesn't look right, try the other one, Udina."

"As you wish, Councilor. Here we have the puce armor, accentuated with double lining to bring out the hips."

"Hm, spectres aren't supposed to have hips, they aren't quarians. Go back to the first outfit."

Archer's eyes cracked open to find himself laying on a hospital bed. Light filtered in through the glass wall to his left, illumination the sterile, futuristic-looking room he was in, and the two creepy men hunkered over him, holding different styles of armor to his chest.

"Gah!" Panic and confusion over rid everything as he sent a fist flying into the face of the one of the men.

"Udina!" Anderson didn't seem so upset to see the man fall to the floor, his eye already blackening. "Hm, this guy can definitely punch. I think the FUTURISTIC SPACE DEITIES have chosen well!"

Meanwhile, Archer was still in panic mode. Flailing, he pulled himself off the bed, collapsing to the cold metal floor. His brain went on overdrive as he tried to make sense of the situation. The last thing he could remember was falling into the Russian Atmosphere. He should of fallen to his death, he should be dead, along with-

Oh crap. Where was Kestral?!

"Calm down, comrade." He looked up to see his partner laying in the bed next to him, completely unharmed and eating a sandwich.

"Kestral?! What are you doing?!"

"What? I woke up and said I was hungry so they gave me a sandwich,' he shrugged nonchalantly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Kestral, usually I appreciate your calm nature. But right now it's getting me a little peeved that we MIGHT BE DEAD, and you don't seem to care!"

"Calm down, son, you're not dead," Anderson intervened, setting down the armor pieces. "And I must apologize for startling you; we were just trying to pick out your spectre outfit."

"Huh?" Archer and Kestral asked simultaneously, crumbs spilling out of the russian's mouth and onto the bed.

"I know you two are probably mass confused with all the cray-cray things that have been going on, and to tell you the truth I haven't found much sense in it, myself. But the FUTURISTIC SPACE DEITIES HAVE SPOKEN, and whether you two understand it or not, you have been brought into our world for one singular purpose."

Archer was pretty sure he was hallucinating right now, but he decided to roll with it in order to keep his mind from melting in confusion. "-and what would that be?"

"You two are going to become Spectres, agents of the galaxy! Now suit up, your ship, AND some of your team, is waiting! Go get 'em, boys."

TOBECONTINED


	3. Chapter 3: Burgendy

It had been a week since the two agents had woken up in that sterile blue hospital room, since then, it had gotten much, much worse. First off, they weren't on earth anymore; they were on some massive space station called the citadel. Second, the galaxy was filled with space ships, biotic powers, and strange alien species, and the most horrible thing of all was that they discovered something called Blasto the Jellyfish.

All in all, it had been a very rough and brain melting seven days.

They now stood on a small docking port, the wind buffeting their faces as they stared at the ship before them. It was small and bulky in design, with the name "Burgundy SR1" painted in sloppy white letters across its hull. All in all, it looked more like a dark green brick then something that would carry top level agents across the galaxy.

Kestrel rubbed his hands together, the light fabric of his gloves feeling unnatural to him. He felt like he didn't belong in the black and red stealth armor that now clung to his muscled frame, like he was slipping into someone else's body. He missed his old gear, it was a lot more comfortable to nap in.

He didn't need to turn his head to know that Archer was looking at him. The unanswered question hung in the air between then, slowly gnawing at the back of the Russian's neck. Sighing, he decided to try and soothe his friend's unease. "Something on your mind, comrade?"

Archer cast his sights to the glimmering citadel towers in the distance, running a hand through his wild hair, which despite all efforts never managed to stay neatly brushed. His jaw tightened as he struggled with the old codes of Third Echelon: _**Never question the mission. **_

"Um, you're looking kind of sick, Chief, maybe you should sit down?"

"N-no, it's just that...what are we doing here?

"Well, currently we are just standing on a dock."

"Excuse me if I'm not taking this as lightly as you are, but we're in a world that no longer makes sense. I work for Third Echelon, not the Alliance. Why are we following their orders?"

Kestral shrugged, wincing slightly at his still healing shoulder. "Because we have nothing better to do? Besides, agents like us know how to adapt, eh? Who knows," he motioned out towards space, "maybe there's something out there that can get us home, might as well play along with the Anderson and the Udina until we find it."

Archer rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a ghost of a smile playing on his face. "Alright, for the sake of furthering this fanfic, I'll throw all questions and plot holes to the wind and decide to play along. Now let's go check out our new ride. "

* * *

><p>Vinyaya Shargosi was really beginning to regret getting out of bed that morning. The blue-ish purple asari scowled as she paced down one of the corridors of the Burgundy, violet eyes glued to the list displayed on her omni-tool. They were supposed to leave in two hours and they were lacking half the crew, as well as the two spectres. Where were they, anyway?<p>

"What is that thing, Kestrel? It looks like a woman and a squid had a baby. You think the Japanese had anything to do with it?"

"Eh, I think it's called an Asari. It might be our req. officer. Go talk to it."

"Uh, I'm good. You do it."

"Nyet, you do it."

"Come on, it probably doesn't even speak the same language."

"I heard that," Vinyaya snapped around, confronting the two men crouched in the corner, staring at her through their red and green night vision helmets. She eyed them incredulously, not exactly knowing what to do.

"Archer and Kestrel? " She took a step forward, hunching over slightly to get a better view of them. "You two are even more idiotic than I imagined."

Archer scowled at the comment, slipping off his helmet. "This ship needs more ducts and pipes if we're to do our job correctly."

"I'm not the one who designed this ship, so don't complain to me. My name is Vinyaya Shargosi, I was hired by councilor Anderson to be your second officer and shadow on missions," she replied curtly.

"But you're an alien. I thought the Alliance liked to keep all-human crews," Kestrel pointed out.

Her frown deepened. "I'm specially assigned. I've done jobs for Anderson before, and he feels like he can trust me when it comes to keeping you two from screwing up. First off, no one must know your origins, too much red tape if they find out you're…not from around here. And secondly, I would like it to be made perfectly clear that I don't like either of you."

"I can live with that," Archer crossed his arms. "So, what are we supposed to do?"

"You are (poor) replacements for Shepard, therefore you must fulfill all duties that would have been assigned to him."

"What's the mission?"

Vinyaya pulled up a dossier on her omni-tool. "First stop, we need to investigate the activities of a certain crime lord thought to have stolen some classified tech. We're heading to Omega."

* * *

><p><strong><em>TOBECONTINUED! (and yes, I'm trying to start an actual story line here. tell me what you think, any suggestions of want you want in this thing I like to call a 'plot'? Thanks! :D ) <em>**


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